Not As The Last Resort
by shiny silver grl
Summary: When another guy is once again interested in Hermione, Ron finally realizes his feelings for her. But his decision not to tell her splinters the trio, and – fearful of losing her forever – Ron scrambles to make things right again. COMPLETE.
1. Title Page

**_Title:  _**"Not As The Last Resort"

**_Author_**:  silver

**_Summary_**:  When another guy is once again interested in Hermione, Ron finally realizes his feelings for her.  But his decision not to tell her splinters the trio, and – fearful of losing her forever – Ron scrambles to make things right again.

**_Takes Place_**:  6th year-ish, immediately after the announcement of this year's Hogsmeade visit.

**_Written_**:  May 1st 2004 – May 4th, 2004

**_Rating_**: PG-13.  You can't find anything in this fic that you can't find in the books or the movies, except maybe us Ron / Hermione shippers getting exactly what we want ;)

**_Disclaimer_**:  I own nothing in relation to the Harry Potter books, movie series, or franchise.  Hell, this plot isn't even original, but much to **my** dismay I've been sucked into the world of Hermione / Ron fluff, and am helpless to resist the siren call of writing a fic about it.  Oy.


	2. Jealous

Chapter I.

After Dumbledore's announcement about the year's first Hogsmeade visit to take place the very next day, the Dining Hall was abuzz with conversation. With the exception of the First and Second year students – who were picking despondently at their food and wishing hopelessly that they were older so they could go – all of the chatter was fast and excited. Over roast beef and pumpkin juice, invitations were proposed and accepted, meeting times were set, and destinations were declared. Down the table, Harry heard Parvati and Lavender discussing some special, enchanted stationary that they wanted to pick up, then Colin Creevey's still-shrill voice announcing that he needed more film.

"Bloody hell_,_" Harry muttered sullenly, borrowing one of Ron's favourite phrases, "hasn't he gotten bored of photograph-taking yet?"

Across from him, Harry's best friend Ron was wolfing down candied treacles as if they were the last ones that existed in the world, and he'd never have another. He was nearly insensate from the gorging, but didn't miss Harry's glum tone. "Wush matta' wi' ooh, 'Arry?" he managed around a mouthful of pastry.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron," said the brown-haired girl sitting next to him. Hermione's tone was absent, however…she too had picked up on Harry's surly mood. "What is it, Harry?"

"I can't go to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Harry said, viciously stabbing at his mashed potatoes. "Snape gave me detention, remember?"

"Oh, right," Ron said, suddenly remembering. He tried to affect a sympathetic expression, but he looked so like a chipmunk with his cheeks packed full of treacle that the overall effect was comedic instead. Next to him, Hermione shook her head, trying to hide a small smile, then sobered when she turned back to Harry. 

"That was so unfair of him to give you detention. It wasn't your fault that your potion turned Neville purple. The directions on the board clearly said that the one drinking the potion should stir vigorously in a clockwise direction before ingesting. How was it your fault that Neville stirred it in a counter-clockwise direction?"

"She's right," Ron chimed in. "I swear, sometimes it seems as if Snape's harder on you now than he ever was before, and we're all supposed to be on the same side now!"

"Maybe he's trying to keep up appearances," Hermione said with less than her usual conviction. "It's very dangerous to do what he's doing…" Here her voice lowered, and she leaned in conspiratorially. "You know. Being undercover for the Order, and working with Voldemort – oh honestly, Ron – maybe he just can't be seen as going any easier on you than he did before."

"No danger of that," Ron said bitterly, smarting a little over his ongoing inability to hear the name "Voldemort" without uttering a small, ingrained gasp of terror, when Hermione could just blithely say it with no difficulty. "He's doing a tremendous job, acting as cruel and unfair as he ever did."

Hermione's sympathetic smile seemed more sincere than Ron's, simply due to the lack of food in her mouth. "Well we won't go either, will we, Ron?" she said, ignoring the redhead's incredulous look. She shot him a stern one back. "We can just all go together on the next trip."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "It's nice of you to offer, Hermione, but there's no point in both of you missing out, too. Just bring me back something from Honeydukes," he added with a smile.

Hermione and Ron were relieved to see the smile. Last year Harry had sort of…floundered. His behavior had been perfectly understandable: in a very short time he'd witnessed the death of a fellow schoolmate, **and** the death of his godfather, who was really the only sort of family he had (not counting the Dursleys, who didn't want Harry just about as much as Harry didn't want them). He'd also seen Voldemort's return to power, and realized that some sort of psychic link bonded them. All around, it had not been a good year, and he had suffered accordingly. But now that the rest of the wizarding world had finally acknowledged that Voldemort was back, and there were steps being taken to fight him, Harry had found his footing again. While he still carried a burden no sixteen year old boy should have to bear, he seemed better able to handle it this year.

They quickly finished eating; Hermione was done before Harry and Ron, mostly because she stopped when she was full. And so it was that she was already rising when Dean approached them. "Hello Hermione," he greeted her politely. "Harry, Ron."

They all exchanged hellos, and Dean returned his attention to Hermione. "Do you think I could talk to you for a moment?"

Hermione blinked. Even though he was a Gryffindor, like them, she didn't know Dean as well as Harry and Ron did, and therefore couldn't think of any reason why he'd want to speak to her. Then again, there was no better way to find out than to go with him. "All right," she replied. "I'll meet you back in the common room," she added to Harry and Ron, and then walked off with Dean. 

Eyes narrowed, Ron watched them walk away together. "What do you suppose he wants with her?" he asked Harry. 

"Dunno. Help with his homework, maybe?"

Harry hadn't really noticed the faint frown on his friend's face until the redhead's expression cleared as if in relief at the possible explanation. "You're right, that's probably it," Ron said. When Harry arched an eyebrow at him in a silent question, Ron looked stared back blankly. "What?"

Harry shook his head. Ron was his best friend, truly, but he could be a bit thick at times. Especially in this one particular area. He said nothing as they rose to leave.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was nearly an hour later when Hermione finally came through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Harry were sitting before the fire playing a game of Wizard's Chess which, for once, Ron was not winning. Harry was excited about his chance to take the game, though he had to admit the reason his friend hadn't beaten him already was because Ron's eyes had been riveted on the common room entrance, taking breaks only long enough to look at his watch. Even Ron's Queen had noticed; she'd scolded him several times for not paying attention as his pieces were taken, one by one.

When Hermione entered the room, Ron spoke up immediately. "Where have you been all this time?" he demanded.

Hermione startled like a deer at a sudden noise. Then, recovering herself, she straightened and adopted her most lofty expression…the one that usually signaled that she'd taken offense at something Ron had said, and that a fight was about to occur. Harry sighed when Hermione replied "Excuse me, but I wasn't aware that I had to report in to you."

Ron's expression was quickly becoming thunderous. "You said you were going to meet us back in the common room." He didn't even look at the board when he picked up his last remaining Bishop and put it down again with a little too much force. Harry decided not to mention that his friend had just moved quite illegally…Bishops didn't normally advance forward four, and over three. Knowing that to venture an opinion of any kind during one of Ron and Hermione's famous rows was to invite anger from **both** of his best friends, Harry wisely kept his own counsel and quietly nudged a pawn up one diagonal square. The pawn – unaccustomed to kills of this prestigious nature – took gleeful pleasure in offing the Bishop, which stared accusingly at Ron until it was dust.

The little melodrama on the board was lost on Hermione. "And here I am, meeting you back in the common room," she said haughtily. 

"That was an hour ago!" Ron exclaimed.

"Congratulations, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically, "It's so satisfying to see that you've gained thorough mastery of timekeeping."

Before he could come back with a scathing response, Hermione sighed loudly. "If you really must know, I was at the library. I ran into Professor McGonagall in the corridor, and we were talking about a Transfiguration spell that I've been wanting to try. But it requires a special ingredient that Hogwarts doesn't usually carry. Professor McGonagall said I could pick it up in Hogsmeade if I wanted to do an extra credit assignment, however, so I went to the library to find out more about it. Is that enough information for you, Ron, or would you like the reference number of the book I used?"

"Well…what did Dean want?" Ron asked grudgingly. It was clear that he really didn't wish to give Hermione the satisfaction of knowing he was curious, but since she hadn't volunteered the information there was no way for him to find out short of asking her.

Fortunately for him, Hermione seemed not to notice his miserable attempt at nonchalance. In fact, she was looking everywhere but directly back at him. "Oh…that," she said. "That only took a moment."

Ron's eyes, however, never left Hermione for an instant. He absently moved another piece (his King, as it were, and directly into the path of Harry's Rook. Technically another illegal move, but Harry wasn't going to complain). "What only took a moment?" he wanted to know.

"Oh honestly," Hermione said to herself, and to Ron's alarm she started to blush. "He just wanted to know if I'd go with him to Hogsmeade tomorrow, that's all."

Ron nearly bolted out of his chair. "What?! Dean asked **you** to go with him?"

It was no faint blush on Hermione's cheeks now; her face had turned red with anger. "And why shouldn't he ask **me**, hm? Is there something wrong with me? Am I defective in some way?"

"What?" Ron said again, this time in confusion. "What are you…wait, that's not what I meant. I just - "

Before he could finish, Hermione – visibly trying to calm herself – held out a hand to stop him. "Ron. It's late. I'm tired, and tomorrow will be a long day. I'm not arguing with you right now, I'm going to bed. Please let's just…not. All right?" The last she said almost as if in a plea, then she turned around in the ensuing silence and went up to the girls' dormitory.

Ron sank back into his armchair, stunned. He looked at the chess board without really seeing Harry's players as they broke out into an impromptu victory dance after soundly defeating Ron's pieces. He didn't even notice when his own players got up and blew a mass raspberry at him. His gaze lifted to Harry, who was watching him silently. "That's not what I meant," he said defensively.

"I know," Harry replied quietly. "And I think she probably does, too, but the way you said it **did** sound sort of like you couldn't believe Dean would ask her to go."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Ron insisted again. "I just didn't think that's what he…I didn't know he was…"

"Interested in Hermione?" Harry finished helpfully.

Ron paled. "That…that doesn't necessarily mean he's interested in her. Maybe he just wants her to go to help him find something for his sister, or…"

He fumbled as he tried to find another reason, and trailed off. "Did she say yes?" he asked suddenly, pinning Harry with an intense stare. "Did she say if she said yes?"

"You didn't give her a chance to," Harry reminded him. "But she said tomorrow was going to be a long day, so I assume that means she's going with him."

"Why would she go with him?!" Ron hissed.

"Why shouldn't she?" Harry replied in a surprised voice. "What's wrong with Dean? You sleep in the same dormitory as him every night. As far as I know, you've never had any problem with him…why shouldn't he take Hermione to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he asked, keeping his voice deliberately casual.

Ron, however, looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Be…Because. Because he just can't!" was all he managed to stammer back.

Overwhelmed in the face of Ron's flat-out refusal to accept the real reason why this vexed him so, Harry gaped at his friend in disbelief. "You really don't know, do you? You don't even know… **still**."

Ron scowled irritably. "Know what?"

"The real reason why Hermione going to Hogsmeade with Dean bothers you."

"Oh, and you know the answer, do you?" Ron asked, folding his arms as if prepared to sit back and listen to a good story. "Go on, then. What is it?"

Harry almost laughed at the absurdity. "I normally try to stay out of this whole issue," he said, "but I just can't take it any more. You're driving me crazy. And you're **certainly** driving Hermione crazy." He settled back into his own chair. "I want you to think back, Ron. Think back to the last time you got this upset over Hermione going somewhere with someone. Can you remember?"

At the imperceptible shake of Ron's head, Harry continued. "I can. It was the Yule Ball. A normally festive occasion, at which you completely ignored your own date in favor of obsessing over what Hermione and Viktor Krum were doing. Viktor Krum, who – I should remind you – had been a perfectly acceptable human being in your opinion, until he began to fancy Hermione. Then you suddenly couldn't stand him, for some reason. Didn't you ever wonder **why** you reacted to him that way when you'd been one of his biggest fans before?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off, continuing, "And aren't you wondering **now** why you're having this reaction to Dean – someone you consider a friend – simply because he's going to Hogsmeade with Hermione tomorrow?"

Ron gaped at him for a moment, then came to himself. "I fail to see the similarity - " he started.

Harry interrupted him again. "Yes, you've been failing to see a lot of things whenever his particular situation arises."

Ron, apparently deciding that the best defense was a good offense, demanded "And you think you know the answer. So what is it?"

"It's simple," Harry replied, his voice deceptively mild. "You're jealous."

For the second time that night Ron bolted out of his chair. "I am **not**!" he claimed. His voice was hot with denial, as if Harry had just accused him of wanting to defect to the Slytherin Quidditch team. "You and Hermione are my friends. She…she's like a sister to me!"

"She is **not**," Harry said. "She's like a sister to me, and **I** never cared that she went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, and **I** don't mind that Dean wants to take her to Hogsmeade. **I'm **not the one who gets all hot and bothered every time she gets a letter from Krum. You are." He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, his case made. Now that it was finally out, there was no way that Ron could deny it.

Though it looked as if he were trying mightily. His face was flushed, and his hands were clenching on their own accord as he turned and paced away from the chair, then spun and came back again. He gripped the high back of the chair. "You're off your bird," he informed Harry. "You've gone completely nutters."

"All right then," Harry said, leaning forward again so that his elbows rested on his knees. "Try this little exercise. Think about tomorrow. Imagine Hermione coming down tomorrow morning and meeting Dean before they're off to Hogsmeade. They have a fabulous day together. Maybe he takes her into that silly couples café. You know, the one I told you about with all of the little hearts. Maybe he holds her hand there, and she lets him."

By this point Ron's jaw was just as tightly clenched as his fists, but Harry went on. "Imagine that they have such a grand time together, that they decide to do it again on the next trip. And then maybe he gets up the nerve to ask if she'll be his girl. Is that really what you want, Ron?"

It clearly wasn't, and Ron couldn't deny the feelings of jealousy and rage that were coursing through him at the thought of Dean and Hermione as a couple. 

"Or," Harry said lightly, holding one of his hands out to the side as if it cupped Ron's other option, "You could admit that you're in love with her, and then who knows how things might end up?"

Ron stared at Harry's outstretched hand as if he were frightened of the nebulous future that Harry spoke of. He shook his head slowly, in a daze. "I'm not…I don't love…Hermione," he said to himself, appearing shaken, and thoughtful. Then he looked at Harry uncertainly. "Do I…love Hermione?" he finally breathed, obviously stunned.

Harry nodded, not without sympathy. "You do, mate."

"Well why the bloody hell didn't you tell me?" Ron exploded, stalking off. He returned immediately. "How long has this been going on, then?" he demanded to know, as if it hadn't all been there inside him from the beginning.

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, unable to keep from grinning at Ron's belated realization, "the Yule ball was two years ago…so for at least that long. But I had my suspicions before then."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered miserably.

"Hey," Harry said. "It doesn't have to be a bad thing, Ron."

"Not a bad thing?!" Ron exclaimed. "This is horrible, Harry. She's my friend. As much a friend to me as you are. If she ever finds out, it could ruin everything."

"Hang on," Harry interjected. "You mean you're not going to tell her?"

Ron looked at Harry as if he'd just suggested that they go 'round Hogwarts with a megaphone proclaiming the Order's plans for defeating Voldemort. "Of **course** I'm not going to tell her! What possible good could come from that?"

Harry was confused. "You could end up going out with her. Isn't that…what you want?"

Ron snorted, but there was more defeat in the action than humor. "It'd never happen, mate." He shook his head, still wanting – but being unable – to disbelieve what he'd just learned about himself. He thought it through for a moment, struggling with his conflicting emotions. Then he looked up at Harry. "She can't ever know, Harry," he finally said. "This friendship, between the three of us…it's important. In a way, each of us has found something here that we were missing in our lives before Hogwarts. I can't risk ruining that just because I…"

He paused and took a deep breath. "Because I love Hermione," he was finally able to say.

Harry said nothing at first, surprised at Ron's insight and self-control. Then, tentatively, he spoke. "Ron…based on your reasons, I actually support your decision. I don't want to lose the friendship the three of us have, either. But I feel like there are two things I have to say before we can just let this go."

He waited for Ron's grudging nod before he continued. "One: I don't really believe that Hermione's the sort of person who would hold that against a friend, do you?"

Ron sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "No," he agreed. "At least not intentionally. But if I told her, it would be…awkward, at the least. I think we'd have a hard time being around each other."

"Unless, of course, she feels the same way," Harry felt compelled to point out. Ron shook his head absently, as if the idea were so farfetched it wasn't even worth mentioning.

"All right then," Harry went on, "Two: You've got to be sure about this. That scenario I constructed for you earlier may end up coming true, you know. And if it's not Dean, eventually it'll be someone." Harry paused, noting Ron's ashen pallor. He hated to do this to him, but it was vital that his friend understand exactly what non-action could entail, so he pressed on. "It's a certainty that **someone** really will ask her out at some point. And if you've never said anything by then, she'll have absolutely no reason to refuse. Are you…prepared to accept that?"

Ron swallowed, looking pained. "I…I suppose I'll have to, won't I? When the time comes, that is."

Harry recognized the stalling nature of his friend's last sentence. Ron would be able to accept it…as long as Hermione wasn't with anyone. He doubted, though, if Ron realized the complete meaning of his own words, or if he fully understood how hard it was going to be to stand back and watch the girl he'd only just realized that he loved going off with another guy.

_If nothing else,_ Harry thought, _tomorrow should be interesting._

.


	3. Blind

Chapter II.

Ron hadn't been able to sleep all night; there was too much going on in his head. When it wasn't filled to the brim with racing thoughts about Hermione (_How could I have been so stupid? How did I not realize for so long that I was in love with her? Has she ever suspected? She looked really pretty yesterday. I wish I hadn't started that fight with her_), it was clouded with more unpleasant ones (_Bloody Dean. Who does he think he is, asking her to go to Hogsmeade with him? Sure, I suppose he's a decent sort, but he's not good enough for her. She's loads smarter than he is. Doesn't he know how I feel about her? Of course he doesn't, you idiot…**you** didn't know until yesterday! Not that it matters; I don't have a chance_).

In this frame of mind – confused, angry, frustrated and more than a little sad – he knew it wouldn't exactly be the best of ideas for him to hang around the common room, waiting for Hermione to come down to meet Dean. But he just couldn't keep himself away. And so it was that he came down the stairs, yawning, a little before ten on that Saturday morning. He plopped down onto the sofa before the fire, and was surprised to see Harry settled into the same armchair he'd occupied the night before. "What are you doing up already?" Ron asked. "Did you even go to bed?"

"Of course I did," Harry answered. He was calmly servicing his broomstick with the set of tools Hermione had given him for his birthday several years ago. "I just thought that it might be a good idea if I were down here early this morning."

"To mediate?" Ron smiled.

Harry didn't. "If it becomes necessary," he answered. Then he looked up and met Ron's eyes directly. "Is it going to become necessary, Ron?"

The redhead hunched his shoulders defensively. "I haven't done anything!"

"Yet," Harry said, arching an eyebrow. "Just remember," he reminded Ron, "you decided to let it remain this way, all right? Think about that before starting an argument."

"I'm not going to start an argument," Ron grumbled. "Why is it always my fault, anyway? Surely she starts some of them."

"True," Harry conceded. "She does start **some** of them. I do find it interesting, though, that as someone who is **extremely** familiar with the sort of things that will set Hermione off, you seem to do it quite a bit anyway."

"Do what?" Ron asked.

"Provoke her," Harry answered. "Although I suppose we know the answer to that one now, anyway." At Ron's querulous look, Harry elaborated. "Think about it. Think about how much time the two of you spend arguing, and then realize how much time that means she's occupied solely with you."

Ron was aghast. "Do you mean that I pick fights with her to get **attention**?" 

Just then, the "her" in question descended the stairs from the girls' dormitory. She halted suddenly at the bottom, when she caught sight of Ron and Harry sitting there. They both quickly stopped talking, although she didn't miss Harry's brief nod to Ron. "Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say in the sudden silence. "Hello."

Both boys mumbled their hellos. Ron kept his eyes away from Hermione after their first brush over her, but he could still see her in his mind. Instead of her usual Gryffindor House robes, she wore an appealing long-sleeved blouse and a soft-looking skirt. Her hair fell down in waves in the back, but the sides had been pinned up quite attractively with a barrette. 

Despite the promise he'd just made to Harry, and the vows he'd taken himself before coming down here this morning, Ron felt himself getting angry. Already, and all he'd done was look at her! But really, how was this fair? He was supposed to just sit back and watch the girl he liked go off with some other boy (whom Ron had carefully avoided up in the dormitory), and that was bad enough. But why did she have to look so pretty today? Did she have any idea how much he'd always liked her hair that way? Ron shook his head angrily. This wasn't going to work. 

Before he could say anything he'd regret later, he stood to go. Then he stopped, indecisively. If he left now, without saying anything, Hermione would think he was angry with her. But if he stayed, his jealousy would get the better of him, and then she'd be angry with **him** when he inevitably picked a fight. What was he supposed to do? He shot a pleading look at Harry, silently begging for help.

Harry caught the look, and understood the reasons for it immediately. "Uh," he said, capturing Hermione's attention. "Um, Hermione. What time are you leaving? Because if it's not for awhile, I was thinking we could all go have breakfast together before I have to be at detention."

Hermione, who'd been watching Ron warily, now focused on Harry. "Oh I can't, Harry, I'm sorry. We're leaving in just a few minutes, and Dean said there's a café he knows in Hogsmeade where we're going to have breakfast."

A small, strangled sound came from Ron's throat. The café! Harry was right! Images of Dean taking Hermione's hand and staring deep into her eyes plagued him. He shut his own eyes, but it didn't help. Damn Harry, anyway! If it weren't for their conversation last night, he might still have been blissfully ignorant of his feelings for Hermione this morning. Of course, he wouldn't have had any idea why he was angry, and that would have been quite baffling, but at least it wouldn't have been painful.

Ron took another stumbling step away, trying to get back up the stairs before he blew his top, but it was too late. Just then Dean came bounding down from the boys' dormitory. He was in an obnoxiously good mood (it seemed to Ron). He fairly skipped up to Hermione, holding a book bag. "I'll be right back," he said. "I've just got to return these books to the library and then we can go, all right?"

"All right," Hermione said. And if that had been all, Ron might have made it safely away without starting a fight. He might've. But then she smiled at Dean, and that was too much.

As Dean left the common room, Ron stalked back to the sitting area. "All right?" Ron demanded. "All right? And that smitten little smile. How happy you must be to've found someone else who actually goes to the library. You just can't wait to go off alone with him, can you?"

Hermione was taken totally off guard. She had ceased to be surprised by the fact that half of the communication that existed between herself and Ron was in the form of an argument, but rarely had he attacked her in this way. All she could manage was, "What?"

"So much for your friends," Ron said bitterly. He could hear it in his own voice, but was unable to stop it. "Leaving Harry here when he's got detention all day, and I guess I'll just rattle around the school alone, so you can go off and cuddle with bloody Dean."

Hermione found her voice – and her anger – in the wake of this accusation. "Excuse me, but I already **offered** to not go in support of Harry, and he said we should. And that was the extent of any plan-making yesterday. You never once mentioned anything about us going together. If you had, I wouldn't have accepted Dean's invitation!"

"I thought it was understood!" Ron shouted back.

"You thought?" Hermione echoed. "You thought?! I highly doubt that your rude accusations this morning are the product of any thought."

"What about Viktor?" Ron rounded on her. "Does he know you'll be off snogging Dean today?"

Hermione's face drained of blood. Watching nervously from his armchair, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen her that pale before. He was trying to decide whether or not he should interrupt them…stop them before they killed each other…but Hermione quickly took the decision away from him. She'd always had a sharp tongue when she chose to use it.

"For your **information**, Ronald Weasley, Dean and I are just going to Hogsmeade together. Have some breakfast, maybe lunch later, and do some shopping. I have no plans to 'snog' him, as you so delicately put it. And not that it's any of **your** business anyway, or Viktor's, who – if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – I do **not** have a relationship with, other than as pen pals. I consider him a friend, and nothing more.

"But while we're on the subject of friends, I feel compelled to point out that I thought Dean was one of yours. Was I mistaken? Has he done something awful to you in the past, and you just never mentioned it until now? Is he really a horrible person, and you've just seen fit to keep it from me for the past six years? Honestly, Ron, what has he ever done to warrant this vicious attitude from you? Why **shouldn't** I go with Dean to Hogsmeade today…can you give me a reason?"

Ron stood there fuming, a great big bitter ball forming in the back of his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He had a reason, all right. _I'm in love with you. Don't go with him, go with me._

"I…can't," he finally said, swallowing his pride, his hurt, and his loss. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he was unable to meet her eyes. The difference was immediately apparent to both of his friends; he seemed to deflate, like a balloon that's just had air let out of it. "You're right," he said miserably to Hermione. "I'm sorry. He's never done anything to warrant it, and neither have you. I just…"

Ron closed his eyes. "Have a good time today," he forced out, then turned and strode from the common room, leaving Hermione and Harry staring at each other in his absence. 

"Okay," Hermione said, looking rather shell-shocked, "that was rather unusual, even for Ron." She rounded on Harry. "What's going on?"

"Uh," Harry squirmed uncomfortably. It was very much **not** his place to tell Hermione why Ron was so upset, but he honestly felt that she deserved an explanation for his behavior. "He's just…got a lot on his mind right now. He didn't mean any of what he said." He paused, taking in her expression, which was slowly melting from anger to hurt. "It's nothing you did, I swear," Harry said anxiously, trying to forestall any tears.

"But there **is** something wrong, then?" she asked. "What is it?"

When Harry only bit his lip and didn't answer, Hermione whirled around and started toward the portrait hole entrance. "Where are you going?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I'm going to the library to tell Dean I can't go with him today." She stopped and turned around again to face Harry. "Look, whatever's wrong with Ron is obviously more important to me than a silly trip into Hogsmeade. Dean will understand."

When she made to leave again, Harry cried out to stop her. With visions in his head of Hermione tracking Ron down and forcing another argument about what was bothering him, he could think only of getting her as far away as possible. "You should just go with Dean today," Harry said urgently. "Ron just…needs to work through some things."

Hermione turned back to him again. "But Harry, whatever it is, I can help."

"He doesn't want your help, Hermione; he doesn't want you to know," Harry replied without thinking, then cursed himself as he watched the hurt deepen on her face. "Look, that's not what I meant. I just mean that there's nothing you can do. He's just got to come to grips with things on his own."

Hermione was very still. Much to Harry's dismay, the tears had come, and they were now standing unshed in her eyes. "So," she said thickly, "not only is there something wrong with one of my best friends, and he won't let me help, but my **other** best friend knows all about it, and is keeping me out of the loop, too."

The first tear spilled silently over one cheek. "I thought we told each other everything?" she asked in a small voice. Harry opened his mouth impotently, unable to think of a nice way to say "_everything except for this_".

Finally, he said the only thing he was able to. "Just go on to Hogsmeade, Hermione. Have a good time. I'm sure this will have blown over by tomorrow."

Hermione rather looked as if she doubted it (for that matter, Harry doubted it, too), but just then Dean stepped back into the common room from the corridor outside. Still facing Harry, Hermione quickly wiped all traces of the tear from her face, sniffed, and turned to Dean. "Ready?" she said brightly. Dean apparently didn't hear the pain still present in her voice, because he said that he was, and they left together without a backward glance.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"I guess I'll just rattle around the school alone, so you can go off and cuddle with bloody Dean."

Seven excruciating hours later, Ron was still rattling around alone in the school, and his own bitter words were still echoing in his head. Ron was trying not to think about the cuddling part – he really couldn't handle the thought of some other guy touching Hermione – but failing miserably.

And so he'd been wandering around from place to place, bored out of his mind but unable to concentrate on anything due to the visions that plagued him. He didn't even have Harry to talk to, because he wasn't out of detention for another ten minutes…bloody Snape.

Though now that he thought about it, he realized he didn't really need Harry to tell him how badly he'd fouled up this morning. He'd been able to figure it out himself from the hurt look in Hermione's eyes. He couldn't believe some of the things he'd said. He was deeply ashamed of them, but he still couldn't escape the image of her with Dean.

And more than anything else, he kept coming back to these baffling feelings he had for Hermione. How **could** he have been so blind to the truth? It was right there in front of him the whole time. Harry had told him he'd known for two years, but that he'd had his suspicions for longer than that. Now, thinking back, Ron could remember dozens of incidents that should have clued him in to how he felt for her. Would have, if he hadn't been so thick about it. 

Although, Ron snorted, _I'd probably give a lot right now to go back to being that thick. At least then I wasn't miserable._

Still…there was something that Hermione had said this morning that stuck with him. Ron wandered along with his hands in his pockets and tried to remember her exact wording. Oh yes, it had been when she was talking about going to Hogsmeade. _"You never once mentioned anything about us going together. If you had, I wouldn't have accepted Dean's invitation!"_

So what did that mean, exactly? Ron wondered. _Did she really mean that she'd have gone with me instead, if I'd asked her? That she'd have chosen me over Dean? _

Belatedly, he remembered something else she'd said, two years ago when he'd been jealous over Viktor Krum. She'd told him that the solution to his problem was to ask her before anyone else did, the next time there was a ball, instead of as a last resort. 

Ron stopped dead.

Looking back on it, that sounded sort of like an invitation, didn't it? Or at the very least, a statement of intent to accept **his** invitation. Why hadn't he realized that at the time?

That one's easy, he thought, continuing his aimless walk, _because you didn't think you thought of her that way._

In any case, if she **had** meant it the way it sounded, Ron wondered why she'd never tried again. 

But that one's easy, too, he thought, angry with himself. _You never acted interested in her as anything other than a friend. So if ever there **was** a time that she felt something for you – and that's a very slim chance, anyway – she probably moved on due to lack of interest on your part. You idiot!_

Lost in his mental self-flagellation, he wasn't aware that he'd made it back up to the main entrance until he ran into something big. Something big and yielding and kind of…

Kind of jiggly?

Looking up, Ron smiled a little. "Hey Hagrid,"

"Oh, hello Ron," Hagrid said after peering down at the redhead who had just bounced off of his stomach. "An' what're you up to this evening, mopin' around?"

Ron shrugged. He didn't really feel like going into all of his woes, right now. "I've just got a lot on my mind," he answered.

"Hmph," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's the same stuff Hermione's got on her mind."

His statement drew Ron's attention like a beacon. "You've seen Hermione?" he asked. "Where? When?"

"Well, just now," Hagrid replied, sounding surprised. "She was comin' in the front door with a load of packages, an' could hardly see over the top a' them. So I held some for 'er until she could do a levitation spell to get them back up to the Gryffindor tower." He paused thoughtfully. "Come ta' think of it, she seemed awfully down, herself."

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Ron said breathlessly. He sped off, leaving a bemused Hagrid in his wake.

With his stomach in knots, Ron raced up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower. He had to apologize to Hermione, but he was desperately afraid of what he'd discover when he found her. He resolved to not ask her how her day with Dean went…he wasn't sure he could stand knowing.

Panting, he reached the top of the stairs and skidded up to the portrait of the fat lady, the password already tripping past his lips. He gave her scarcely enough time to open the entrance way before rushing through.

She closed in a more dignified – that is to say "slow" – fashion than she'd been permitted to open. "Well," she said breathlessly.

To Ron's relief, Hermione was still in the common room. He'd been afraid that she would have already gone up to the girls' dormitory; if she had, he'd have had a right devil of a time trying to climb up the banister, since the stairs would transform into a steep slide the moment he set foot on them. 

Ron halted just inside the portrait hole, stopping so fast that he nearly fell over when momentum tried to carry him forward. Hermione – who was alone in the common room and had looked up in surprise when she heard his noisy entrance - smiled a little, and he took heart from it. Maybe she didn't hate him, after all?

Unfortunately, he hadn't thought of what he was going to say, and now they stood awkwardly in the silence as he cast about for an ice breaker. "So…uh…how was Hogsmeade?" he finally stammered.

Idiot! He mentally berated himself._ You could have asked her if she needed help. You could have just said you were sorry. You **could** have just dashed across the room and flung yourself from the window! But no, you had to ask her the one thing you just swore you wouldn't!_

Ron cringed in anticipation of her response, dreading being told that Hermione and Dean were a couple now with every fiber of his being. 

Hermione sighed a little, looking at all of her packages. "It was all right," she said dismissively, as if she didn't really want to go into it. "I came back with rather more than I'd planned to."

She bent slightly and took hold of the handles on the biggest bag, lifting it up and holding it out to Ron. "I brought some sweets back for you," she said tentatively. "I…I know Honeydukes is one of your most favourite places in the world, and since you didn't go today, I…Well, I got a little of everything."

Beaming at the peace offering, Ron took the bag and looked inside. It did indeed look as if she'd gotten a little of everything. "Wow, Hermione, you're the best!" he exclaimed. 

Hermione's smile was more genuine this time, and Ron was relieved. She was going to forgive him. Now he just had to get on with the apologizing part. But before he could formulate a sentence in his brain, his mouth was already working. "Hagrid said you had to do a levitation spell to get it all up here. How'd you lug it around Hogsmeade all day?"

"Oh," Hermione said, clearly reluctant as her smile faded. "Um, Dean helped me carry some of it."

"Oh," Ron echoed, his own smile wiped off as cleanly as if someone had taken a rag and polish to it. "Well…that was nice of him," he said lamely, fighting to keep jealousy out of his voice. Oh, how ridiculous a thing love was, if he could get jealous over some other guy carrying Hermione's packages!

When Hermione said nothing, Ron cleared his throat. "Look, um, Hermione," he finally managed. "You were right. Dean's a decent sort, and…and I'm sorry about the fight this morning. You didn't deserve it, I've just…I've just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding a little bitter, "that's what Harry said this morning."

Alarmed, Ron asked, "Did he say **what** was on my mind?"

"No," Hermione said, angry when she saw his relief. "Don't worry, your secret is still safe from me."

"Safe from you?" Ron repeated. "Look, it's not really a big, huge secret, it's just something that I've got to work through on my own."

Hermione sighed, as if trying to expel her hurt and anger. "I understand that, Ron, and it's certainly your decision if you don't want to tell me something. It's one thing to know that. But in reality, the truth of it is that I had a horrible time in Hogsmeade today, because all I could think about was what I'd done wrong to make you and Harry not trust me with something."

"Whoa!" Ron said, holding his hands perpendicular to each other in the classic "time out" sign. "Hold up. Who said we didn't trust you?"

"Well it's kind of obvious, Ron," Hermione replied crossly. "Clearly something's been bothering you. But when I went to go tell Dean that I couldn't go with him to Hogsmeade today so I could find you, and help you figure out whatever the problem is, Harry said you didn't want me to know, and you didn't want my help." By the end of her rant, Hermione's voice had somehow made the transition from aggravated to hurt. To his dismay, Ron thought he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. 

Hermione went on, in a small voice, "I mean really, the only other reason I can think of for you to be so dead-set against telling me what's wrong is if you just didn't really want to be my friend any more."

"What?!" Ron nearly exploded. "Hermione, don't you think you're going a little overboard, here?" As soon as he said it, though, he remembered an eleven-year old Hermione skipping all of her afternoon classes so she could go cry in the bathroom because he'd called her a nightmare. And they'd hardly known each other, then, so extreme reactions weren't really all that far out of Hermione's orbit. And here they were, five years later, much closer and much more important to each other. Was it really so unbelievable that she'd react this way to a perceived mistrust? He guessed not. Still… "How do you get from me having an issue I've got to work through, to me not wanting to be friends with you any more?"

Hermione made a strangled sound of frustration. "I don't know, Ron. How would you feel if you found out just enough to know that something was bothering me…bothering me enough so that I snapped at my friends...but I wouldn't tell you what was wrong, and I wouldn't let you help? Wouldn't that bother you?" 

Ron thought about it. Put that way, he guessed it would.

Now Hermione's eyes filled with tears again, and they threatened to spill over as she went on. "And then all those awful things you said this morning, and last night, insinuating that I wasn't good enough for Dean, or something…"

Ron wanted to bang his head against the wall. "I said I was sorry for that! Believe me, Hermione, I don't think Dean's too good for you. It's more like the other way around."

Distressed, he watched her shake her head. She closed her eyes in pain, causing a tear to streak down each of her cheeks. He watched in horror as they trailed across her skin before she angrily wiped them away. "Look," he said desperately, finally realizing how much this was hurting her, warranted or not. "It's all right. I'll tell you, all right? Just don't…please don't cry, Hermione."

She only shook her head harder. "It doesn't matter," she said, and started to walk past him. 

"Hey!" Ron said. He stopped her, grasping her arms above the elbows. "It **does** matter! You can't stand there crying and tell me it doesn't."

"Just let me go," Hermione pleaded, obviously trying to stop the stream of tears and managing to look embarrassed at the same time. "I'm sorry I made such a big deal of this, in the first place. You have a right to your own private life, and I don't have to know everything. I just…I just didn't know it would hurt like this." 

She finally managed to pull away from him. Stunned, he let her go. "But I certainly don't want you to feel **obligated** to tell me," she finished. Then she turned away as if to leave the common room.

"How am I supposed to win, here?" Ron demanded shakily. "You're upset because I won't tell you, but then when I say I **will** tell you, you don't want me to tell you if it's not really what I want?"

Hermione looked back at him once, sadly. "It's not about winning," was all she said. And then she was gone. 


	4. Last Resort

Chapter III.

It was a mad-looking Ron who finally found Harry in the corridor outside Snape's classroom. His red hair was sticking up at all angles, as if he'd been running his hands through it non-stop. He had skidded to a halt next to Harry from a dead run, and his overall manner simply screamed "distraught".

"Harry!" Ron said urgently, after spotting his friend, "You've got to help me."

Harry grabbed one of Ron's shoulders to steady him, and was disconcerted to realize he had to reach up slightly to do so. He put it aside. "Easy, mate. Calm down. I was just heading up to get some dinner, do you want to come with me?"

"I'm not hungry," Ron said dismissively, flooring Harry. He didn't think he'd ever heard those three particular words in that particular order ever come from Ron's mouth before. 

"Listen," Ron went on, "you've got to help me find Hermione. I've looked everywhere!"

"Maybe she's not back from Hogsmeade, yet?" Harry suggested.

"No, she's back," Ron said, raking his fingers through his hair and confirming Harry's guess. Ron took a deep breath. "I went to apologize to her," he started.

Harry began to get a bad feeling. "Don't tell me," he said, holding a palm out to Ron to forestall him, "You went to apologize, but it ended up deteriorating into another row, and now she's stormed off."

"Er, not entirely," Ron said. "If she was just angry with me, I could take that. One of us always seems to be upset with the other."

"Well if she's not angry," Harry asked, "why did she run off?"

They had started walking down the corridor to the stairs that led up and out of the lower level where Snape taught his classes, but now Ron stopped, a pained expression settling on his face. "Because she's **hurt**," he said. "She's…she thinks I don't trust her or something, because I won't tell her my bloody **secret**, and that I don't want to be friends with her any more."

Harry's eyes bugged out behind his glasses. "How'd she come to think all of that?"

"You tell me, mate," Ron said a little huffily. "You're apparently the one who told her I didn't want her to know what it was."

"Well you didn't, did you?" Harry countered effectively. "Don't blame me because you took the coward's way out of all of this by not telling her how you felt."

"I was **trying** to do the right thing!" Ron exclaimed. "I thought you understood that? I just didn't want to bust up our friendship."

"Um, Ron?" Harry said tentatively, "I think you sort of failed."

Ron swallowed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Harry watched him, thinking. Finally, as they started walking again, he said, "You've got to tell her, Ron. It's the only way out of this."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I tried already. When I realized she was taking it entirely the wrong way, I said I'd tell her."

"And what did she say?" Harry wanted to know.

"That's when she ran off!" Ron said. "She said she didn't want me to feel like I **had** to tell her."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Not as the last resort," he said softly, remembering.

Ron had been walking with his head down; now he looked sharply up at Harry. "I was just thinking about that earlier today," he said.

Harry winced. "You didn't learn from it very well, did you?"

Ron was dumbfounded. "Hey, who's side are you on, anyway?"

"I'm on the side of my friends," Harry answered. "**Both** of them." When Ron had no comeback for that, Harry went on. "Look, it's clear what we have to do. We'll split up and search for Hermione. If you find her first, you can just tell her what's going on. If I find her first, I'll let you know where she is."

"But I've already looked everywhere she goes," Ron said, frustrated. "And I've been to the library twice."

As they reached the top of the stairs, Harry's determined green eyes met Ron's troubled blue ones. "Then we'll look again."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

__

Harry had tried it Ron's way for awhile, blindly going from place to place, looking in all of the spots that he knew Hermione frequented. 

But it wasn't until he tried thinking like Hermione that he figured it out. She needed a place to go – a place that no one else would think of straight away in connection to her – but where she could stay for quite a while if she needed to. It all came down to what she **needed**.

Once he thought of the Room of Requirement, he headed there immediately, sure he was on the right track. She had to be there, they'd looked everywhere else.

He hurried to the corridor where, once or twice a week, his Dark Arts group used to meet to practice in secret. Since the tyrant Umbridge had gone, however, secrecy was no longer required, and they had Dumbledore's unspoken permission to practice their "homework" in a room specially set aside for that very purpose. Harry still lead the practice sessions, but now from time to time an actual professor would drop by and teach them something new.

Now, as he neared the hidden doorway, he reminded himself not to think about Defense of the Dark Arts."I need to find Hermione," he thought urgently.

Even as he thought it, a magic door appeared in the wall. Grasping the knob firmly in his hand, Harry swung the door inward. Inside…he found the library. Despite the situation, he chuckled a little. "I should have known," he said to himself.

When he heard a quiet sniffle from within in response, Harry closed the door behind him and stepped into the room, which was – of course – a perfect replica of the studying area at the library. He peered into the dimly-lit room, trying to spot Hermione. He wasn't sure if she'd specifically turned the lights off, or if the Room of Requirement had somehow sensed her need for the dark, but shadows lurked in the corners and pooled under the tables. The stacks were alleys into gloom, and he shivered, not understanding how Hermione could take comfort in being in such a spooky place alone.

He still couldn't see her, but he knew she was somewhere ahead of him. "Hermione…can I come in?"

There was another sniff, and then Hermione's voice came back to him, sounding put-out. "No point in asking now, you're already here." A moment later, however, some of the misery had left her voice…it wasn't Harry, after all, who had hurt her. "I've got to admit that I'm surprised you found me here," she said, sounding a little impressed despite herself.

"Well, it took awhile," Harry answered, honing in on her voice. "Ron and I ran ourselves ragged looking all over the school before I thought of the Room of Requirement."

He finally located her, sitting on the floor with her back up against the check-out desk. Her knees were pulled up and pressed tightly together so that they supported her head, which was resting in her crossed arms. When Harry approached and crouched before her, she looked up. 

"Is Ron with you?" she asked, somehow managing to sound both as if she hoped he wasn't, but also a little hopeful that he was.

"No," Harry told her, sitting down next to her against the desk. "We split up to cover more ground. Or, in Ron's case, to cover the same ground over and over again. I think he passed me on his circuit five times just in the past hour."

This didn't produce the smile he'd been hoping to elicit from her, and he got serious. "Look, Hermione…you can't really believe that he doesn't want to be friends any more. He's out there looking for you right now. I've never seen him like this. He's…frantic."

Hermione didn't appear cheered at this news. "I'm not trying to make him worry," she said softly. "And I know he cares, it's just…"

She shifted a little, turning to look at Harry. "I know I'm overreacting about all of this. I know, intellectually, that whatever he's going through isn't necessarily a reflection on me. It just really hurt when you said he didn't want me to know what it was, and didn't want my help. What hurt was that it was **me** in particular he didn't want knowing."

Harry sighed. "I think quite a bit of this is my fault. I **knew** I normally stayed out of it for a reason!" he said more to himself than to her. "What I said this morning, that was all me. Ron never said anything about not wanting your help. In fact, it's not really even something that can be helped, it just is. And I swear that neither of us **ever** meant to make you feel left out."

He turned, facing her, and made sure she was paying attention. "The reason I didn't tell you what was going on, is because it's not my place to. That's **all** it was. You and Ron are my best friends, Hermione, and nothing can change that for me. I know Ron sees it the same way."

Hermione sniffed again, obviously moved. Encouraged, Harry pressed on. "And this thing…you're going to laugh when you find out what it is, knowing what a big huge ruckus got made over it. It's all a huge mistake, because Ron's a block-head."

Hermione surprised Harry by putting a restraining hand on his arm. "He's not," she disagreed softly, "He's smart, really. Smarter than he thinks. He's just…"

"Got the emotional range of a teaspoon?" Harry grinned. He'd always particularly liked that one.

Hermione stifled a smile. "It just takes him a while to understand why people think or feel the way they do."

"Yes," Harry agreed dryly, "you've hit that one dead on. Even himself," he added under his breath.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Thinking out loud."

Then, something occurred to him and he turned back to her. "Although, that's some pretty decent insight you've got, into your **friend**," he said, placing a light emphasis on the word 'friend', and watched her carefully. "And then defending him, and all, after he's been a right idiot to you all day."

It was pretty dim in here, but Harry was fairly certain she blushed at his words. _How very…interesting,_ he thought.

A minute or so passed in silence, as Harry left Hermione to her thoughts. "All right," she finally said. "I won't ask you again what's bothering him, because I understand the reason why you can't say. But will you tell me…is it something I did? Is that why **I'm** the one who can't know?"

"No," Harry said hastily. "It's nothing like that. Like I said, this is all a big misunderstanding." He met Hermione's dark, chocolate coloured eyes directly. "The only way I can really put it is…the thing on his mind, he was afraid to tell you about it because he was afraid of what you'd think of him. It sounds ridiculous now, after we got you all riled up, thinking he didn't want to be friends anymore, but the reason he decided not to tell you was because he **didn't** want to risk busting up our friendship."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said, finally coming out of her quiet melancholy. Her cheeks were flushed with outrage. "Ron should have known better! Honestly…some of the things we've been through, and he still thinks I'd stop being his friend over…" She stopped, faltered. "Over, whatever it is," she finished in a less certain tone. 

"I mean," she said tentatively, looking at Harry. "How bad could it be?"

"It's not," Harry said, nearly laughing from the absurdity of it. "It's not even, that's what's so hilariously tragic about this whole thing."

Hermione felt herself beginning to respond to Harry's levity. Somehow, she felt better, now. There was even the beginning of a smile on her lips as she said, sort of fondly, "I don't know why he'd even worry so much about what I thought…he never cares what I think. It's the reason we argue, half the time."

"That's not true," Harry said, serious again. "He cares more than you think he does, Hermione…especially about this."

Hermione looked thoughtful. She was obviously still trying to figure out what the whole issue was. "What could he be worried that I'd think was so awful that I'd stop being his friend?" she wondered aloud. "Since you're joking about it, I can only assume that no one's been hurt, and that everything's all right with the Order, and that he hasn't done anything truly horrible…"

She broke off suddenly, looking very much as if a devastating thought had occurred to her. "He's not," she started, looking at Harry for confirmation. "I mean he hasn't…is he…going out with someone?"

Harry stared back at her, astounded by what her question revealed. "No," he answered her slowly, but firmly, _but how interesting that you think him going out with another girl would be horrible. Wow…she hid this from me a lot better than Ron did._

Almost as if he'd been summoned by Harry thinking about him, the door opened at just that moment and Ron crept in, peering into the gloom. Harry and Hermione could see him, back-lit as he was by the doorway, much better than he could see into the room. Harry could tell that he hadn't stopped running his hand through his hair, because it was even wilder than before. 

"Hermione?" Ron stage-whispered, glancing once back over his shoulder. Hermione realized it must be after curfew, and was surprised to discover how long she'd been holed up in the Room of Requirement.

Ron stepped into the room hesitantly, then appeared to realize where he was. He looked around at the imitation library, complete with an endless supply of books, and said to himself, "I should have known." He shut the door behind him, and the room plunged back into near-darkness.

Harry snorted. "That's what I said," he called out. 

From the direction of the doorway, they heard Ron's voice. "Harry? Is that you? Is she in here?"

"Yes," Harry answered, "to all three questions." He stood. "We're over by the check-out desk."

Hermione remained sitting on the floor as Ron approached, not looking up. Harry went to meet Ron, and ran into him several feet away. "Easy, mate," he said, holding out an arm to bar Ron from going to Hermione immediately. "Let's establish some ground rules, shall we?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

"Hermione and I have been sitting in here having a nice, rational discussion, and I don't want you coming in here, rooting around and tearing up all my progress, all right?"

He was close enough now that he could see Ron's scowl, and he hoped that meant that Hermione was smiling. "Relax," he added. "Everyone's calm, no one's upset. And if you two can keep it that way, I'll leave you alone. I personally am going to sneak down to the kitchen and see if Dobby can get me some food. I've been stuck in detention all day, and then Ron drafted me for the great-Hermione-search immediately after, so I haven't had any dinner yet."

He suddenly turned to Ron again. "Come to think of it, neither of you had any dinner, either, did you? When was the last time you ate, Ron?"

Ron was too distracted to think very hard about it. "I don't know," he answered. "I…I've been too busy worrying about Hermione," he admitted.

Several feet away from each other, Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped in unison. Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten? Because he'd been too worried about Hermione? 

After he recovered from his shock, Harry grinned. Hopefully, Hermione recognized that as the declaration of love that it was. His work here was done.

"All right," he said. "I'll leave you two to have the conversation that you should have had last night. I'll bring some food up to the common room for you."

As he passed Ron, Harry muttered "Do something about your hair, mate, it's completely insane."

As Ron took the first step toward Hermione, nervously trying to pat his hair down without being too obvious about it, Harry added, "Relax. It'll be easier than you think."

Ron frowned. That had sounded just cryptic enough to penetrate his preoccupation. Bemused, he watched Harry leave the Room of Requirement, shutting the door behind him and leaving him alone with Hermione.

Hermione. 

Ron turned away from the door, crouching down before her as Harry had done not too long before. Hermione met his gaze feeling a lot calmer than she thought she'd be when she came in here. It helped that he wasn't yelling at her.

In fact, he surprised her when he asked quietly, "Are you all right?"

Hermione swallowed, cleared her throat. "Better," she answered. 

Ron nodded. "I want you to know that I figured it out," he said. At Hermione's confused look, he elaborated. "It's the 'last resort' thing again, isn't it?"

Hermione said nothing, and Ron expounded. "Like with the Yule Ball, two years ago. I think, from what you said, that maybe you would have gone with me if it had been what I'd wanted from the beginning. I understand now why you got angry when I just assumed you'd go at the last minute. And once I remembered that, I realized it was the same thing I did yesterday…just assuming that you and I would go to Hogsmeade today.

"But see, in my mind," he continued, "it's a foregone conclusion that the three of us go everywhere together, when we can. Harry couldn't go, because of the detention, but when he urged us to, I took for granted that you and I would still go."

"That, uh…I can see how you would assume that," Hermione admitted. "I should have thought to ask you before I agreed to go with Dean."

Ha, Harry! Ron thought, _Look! We can have progress on our own!_

"So that's…that," Ron said awkwardly. "I think I've finally learned my lesson not to take you for granted. I hope so. But…as far as this whole 'secret' thing goes…"

"Ron, stop," Hermione said, putting a hand on his arm. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

His incredulous look actually earned a laugh from her. "I realize that I could have saved us all a lot of trouble if I'd come to that conclusion this morning, but I…had to learn a lesson too, I guess."

Ron breathed a deep sigh of relief. Not because he was off the hook, but because she'd laughed. If he could still make her laugh, it wasn't all lost. There was still a chance he could make it right. 

Her laugh had also swept away the pained formality between them, and he moved to sit beside her against the desk. He didn't sit close enough touch, but it was close enough so that he could feel the heat from her body against his side.

"You didn't let me finish though," he said lightly. "I'm going to try really hard to not take you for granted any more, Hermione. But when it comes to this 'secret', I need you to know that I'm telling you as a last resort."

Hermione blanched, all humor gone again from her face. Before she could say anything, Ron nudged her with his elbow. "Listen to me," he asked her.

When Hermione continued to watch him expectantly, Ron went on. "Well, it's kind of a last resort, anyway. See, I originally made the decision not to tell you because more than anything in the past six years of my life, I've valued our friendship. It's like I said to Harry yesterday…the three of us have something special. We each found something here, in each other, that we didn't have before. And all I knew was that I didn't want to lose it. When I decided not to tell you, I was trying to protect us.

"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid of how you'd react, and what you'd think of me. I was trying to avoid the whole situation. But when I realized my choice was either to tell you, or live with having driven you away because you thought I didn't trust you…well that made it simple for me, really. So yes, I suppose you could say that it's as a last resort…but I want to tell you. Does that make a difference?"

He looked over at her, and saw that she was crying again. But something told him it wasn't a bad thing, this time. Hermione reached up with her left hand and wiped at her cheeks, and reached over with her right to take his hand. He was relieved when she laced her fingers through his and squeezed. "It makes a difference to me," she said, smiling. She leaned over a little and rested her forehead on his shoulder, her eyes closed, as if she were giving and drawing strength from him. 

Finally, she looked up and met his eyes. Ron stared down into hers, very aware of how close she was. Hermione squeezed his hand again. "I just want you to know, Ron," she said with a little difficulty, "that whatever it is won't matter to me. I'll always be your friend…I really want you to know that."

"Yeah," Ron said, trying desperately to keep any traces of disappointment out of his voice. Above all else, he needed her friendship. He could live without her loving him back, but she had to know how much her friendship meant to him. "I know that," he said warmly, squeezing back.

As the moment stretched out, Ron suddenly realized he hadn't quite gotten around to confessing, yet. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Well, um…the thing that I was afraid to tell you was uh…it's just that I um…"

He took a deep breath, staring straight ahead. He couldn't look at her, he couldn't. "It's just that I'm in love with you," he said on the exhalation. Immediately, he closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he'd just said it. Now that he had, the words came in a rush. "I don't know for how long, apparently it took me forever to figure it out. Harry said he's known for a couple years, but I think it's been longer, now that I've realized it. And I know that you don't feel the same way, and that's okay… Well, actually, that part pretty much sucks, but I didn't expect anything different, and I just want you to know that the most important thing is having you in my life, because without you and Harry I…"

He stopped, because Hermione had shifted so that she was kneeling next to him now, instead of sitting, and she was looking at him. He could see her there in his peripheral vision, though he was still staring straight ahead. His heart was racing, and he couldn't really catch his breath, but he finally made his head turn to face her.

She was looking at him in wonder, and he didn't know what to make of that. She didn't appear to be angry, though, and that was a welcome surprise. She wasn't laughing, either, and that was nice, too. 

The wonder, though…what did that mean? Her eyes were wide and luminous; they seemed to have caught all of the light that was available in the room, because they were shining at him. She wasn't exactly smiling, but she looked…happy?

Finally, he couldn't take it any more. "What are you thinking," he whispered, not trusting his voice.

Hermione took a shaky breath, laughing a little. "I'm thinking Harry was right…you're a block-head."

At Ron's look of consternation, she laughed again. It was a bright, silvery sound that unburdened his heart. She was so close now, and then she reached out and traced her fingertips down his right cheek. "Oh, you idiot," she breathed. "I've loved you for ages." 

Ron gasped, and his heart started beating triple-time. Her touch sent shivers through him, but it was nothing next to the effect her words had. He couldn't quite believe his own ears. "You…you love me?" he asked.

Now she was smiling, smiling through her tears. "I do," she said softly.

Ron made a sound…it sounded too hysterical to be a laugh. This didn't feel real. Had he really heard her right? He tried again. "You love… Me?"

Hermione's laugh sounded a lot like his…disbelieving, incredulous and joyous all at the same time. "Yes," she said. 

Ron let out a deep breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, giddy with relief and possibility. Hermione loved him! Though it felt like a million bludgers had been set loose in his stomach, he found the courage to reach up, placing his hand over hers on his face. It was real. He could feel it. He could smell the light scent on the inside of her wrist, and recognized it as the same brand of perfume as the kind he'd given her for Christmas a couple years before. It made him dizzy, or maybe that was just because she was so close. Closer.

Instinctively, he lowered his head to her as she looked up at him. And sitting there together against the desk in a magical room, their lips met and pressed softly together. 

He had automatically shut his eyes when he kissed her, but it only intensified the sensation of her soft lips on his. That perfect moment seemed to last forever, and then it didn't so much end as melt into something deeper. Hermione opened her mouth very slightly, and pressed another kiss upon him, swamping him in sweetness. Oh…he hadn't known anything could feel like this, ever in the world.

When at last they drew apart, Hermione's deep sigh brought a new smile to his face. He wasn't ever…EVER…going to ask her if Viktor or Dean had kissed her – he was done with being the jealous bloke on the sidelines – but he was pretty sure that if they had, it hadn't been anything like what he and Hermione had just shared. 

They leaned in to each other, their foreheads touching as they basked in the afterglow of that perfect kiss. Suddenly, a thought that had been hovering above Ron fell down and smacked him in the head. "Hey!" he said indignantly, straightening up and opening his eyes. "You said you've loved me for ages."

Hermione smiled indulgently. "Years," she clarified.

"Y…years?" Ron echoed, responding to that amazing knowledge – and her smile – with a big, goofy grin.

At her nod, he grinned even more widely, then immediately dropped it for a scowl. "Years! You've loved me for years, then, and never said anything 'til now! So you kept a secret from me!"

Hermione laughed, delighted with him. "Now Ron, that's entirely different."

"I fail to see how!" Ron exclaimed. She grinned impishly at him, and he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Damnit, it was too hard to frown when he was this happy! But he had a point to make, he did.

"Well, let's examine the facts, Ron," Hermione said in a business-like fashion. Ron found it hard to take her entirely seriously, however, as she had drawn one of his hands to her and was stroking his palm absently. "You've just told me that it took you at least two years to realize how you felt about me. I'd put it right about the same time, myself, but it developed from a crush that started in second year. If I'd told you all that time ago, how do you think you would have reacted?"

Ron forced his attention up from her fingers on his palm to her mischievous eyes. The vixen, she was teasing him! He fought a grin as he conceded her point. "I'd probably have been really confused, highly embarrassed, and totally unwilling to admit any feelings in return," he admitted. "Twelve year old boys aren't very good with emotions."

"Yes," Hermione said dryly, "and sixteen year old ones are regular Casanovas."

"Regular whats?" Ron asked, befuddled.

Hermione shook her head, smiling at him. "Never mind. You're a lot cuter than Humphrey Bogart, anyway," she said as he stood and offered her a hand up. "A lot taller, too," she observed once they were both standing.

"So…how should we tell Harry?" Ron wondered.

Hermione smiled, and squeezed his hand, which she hadn't released after he helped her up. "Why don't we just walk into the common room and let him come to his own conclusions?"

Ron grinned at her, then looked surprised as he remembered something. "He said he was going to bring food up for us!" he said excitedly, pulling her along behind him toward the door. "Come on!"

Laughing, letting him pull her away from the despair she'd come there with, Hermione didn't look back.

~FIN~


End file.
